


The Pants Fic

by Emotionallyunstabl



Series: Pants Fic(s) [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Angst, Angst and Crack, Crack, Crack Taken Seriously, Other, what the fuck is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 22:24:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emotionallyunstabl/pseuds/Emotionallyunstabl
Summary: My friend’s pants ripped.Then I wrote this.Enjoy, I guess.





	The Pants Fic

The memory still haunts me to this day. One minute I was free, barely aware that they were even there, the next, they really weren’t there.

How was I supposed to know that they would rip? Time after time, I took them for granted, pushed them to their limits, without even realising.

I look down at the rip in the fabric, and wondered how I could’ve been so foolish; so naive. Of course the somersault would rip the pants, this fabric isn’t supposed to stretch like that, I could I have-

A memory flashed before my eyes, fleeting, but vivid. That was not the first time I rolled, or did any form of gymnastics in those pants, I had done that before. Maybe this time, the pants couldn’t take it? 

Maybe this time, the pants didn’t want to take it.

My eyes started to water. Did the pants really want to rip? Was it just looking for an excuse to leave, and I handed it one on a silver platter. Could they’ve possibly wanted this?

The thought would haunt me for years to come.

***

For days I spent hauled up in my room, sitting in my underwear and staring at the pants from across the dimly lit space. Staring at them, as if the hole would suddenly repair, as if they would come back. I just wanted, at least one more day with them, to properly cherish them. I bit my lip, fighting back tears as someone knocked on my door.

The door was pushed open, and my mum was there, holding a shopping bag, she placed it inside the room and left, without closing the door behind her.

Sighing, I walked over to my door and push it closed. Why do parents never close your door properly? I was about to go back to my bed and continue mourning, when I felt my foot brush up against something.

The plastic bag.

I picked it up, gingerly, and walked over to my bed and peaked inside of it.

My heart nearly stopped.

Inside the bag is a pair of pants. The incredulity of the situation, and the complete tactlessness from my mother made me want to laugh and cry all at once.

I look into the bag once more, then over to the ripped ones on the other side of the room, the back to the bag.

Surely, trying them on wouldn’t hurt?

***

The pants were tight, and cut into the back of me where the tag was. The stiffness made it so I could barely walk. 

I’d wear them in. I told myself. I’d get used to them.

I tried to pull my mind away from my old ones, from the security and comfortability of them. I couldn’t get hung up on them, I needed to move on.

My mother said that I just needed to wear them for a bit longer, then I’d get used to them, then I’d forget about the other ones.

I didn’t want to get used to the new pants, and I didn’t want to forget about the old ones.

Day after day, I walked around in pain, unable to bend my knees because of these pants. But I didn’t complain. I kept my mouth shut. They’ll change. I told myself. 

They’ll change. I lied to myself.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment mother fucker.


End file.
